


Leather (Pt. 2)

by Serai



Series: High Contrast [26]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Anal Sex, Black Leather, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Photography, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serai/pseuds/Serai





	Leather (Pt. 2)

.  
Casey runs his fingertips against the rippled black surface of the jacket folded on the bed next to him. The heat of Zeke’s skin presses against him all the way up to his back, where his lover’s up on one elbow, stroking Casey's arm with his long fingers. 

 

\----***----

 

They’ve spent the last couple of hours once again playing with the camera. After Zeke had kicked off his jeans, he’d lain back and pulled Casey in against his chest. They’d stayed like that for a bit, winding downward from the high of their orgasms. When he’d gotten his breath back, Casey raised his head and grinned, running a fingertip down Zeke’s chest, just under the leather jacket. “Uh oh,” Zeke murmured, one eye opening. “I wonder what’s coming next?”

“You’re way ahead of me,” Casey whispered, kissing him.

“Mm. Always,” Zeke answered back. He closed his eyes again and shifted on the bed, getting more comfortable as Casey slipped away to get the camera. He smiled as he heard the sounds – unzip the case, unwind the straps, pop off the lens cap, tiny slide of the settings. He opened his eyes then, and looked in Casey’s mechanical eye.

It had freaked him out a little at first. It seemed so cold. But as they had made their photos, he learned to connect its black, open gaze with the way Casey’s eyes saw him, worshipped him, _fucked_ him, transformed him. It didn’t take many sessions before just the sight of the camera pointed at him would start him off, speed up his breath, run gooseflesh over him in a shivering wave. He _wanted_ Casey to look at him. He wanted to be made into something beautiful.

So he arched his back for him now, sliding down the bed a little to get the jacket to slide up off his shoulders. Pulling up onto his elbows so the leather pooled around his forearms, he opened his lips and imagined sucking Casey, knowing he’d see it and find a way to capture the thought. A little hiss of indrawn breath - he was right. “Fuck me,” Casey’s voice was a breathless moan, a plea as well as an expletive. _Fuck me_ , Zeke thought, agreeing, and slid a hand down his body. When he took hold of himself, Casey finally put the camera down and dipped his mouth to lick at the head and shaft slipping through Zeke’s fist. “Will you?” he gasped. “Fuck me? Will you?”

Zeke gripped the back of his neck and laughed. “Jesus, Connor, is that even a question?” He tugged, pulling Casey up onto his knees. He leaned over to raid his bedside drawer and got himself ready with cheerful speed. Before Casey knew it, wet fingers were prodding and caressing his anus, slipping in and out. “Climb on, you ready?” Zeke gasped.

For an answer, he got Casey’s tight hot grip, lowering onto him and making him groan. He took hold of Casey’s hips and thrust. Casey’s hands gripped his arms in the black leather sleeves, fisting the hide tight in the fingers of one hand, moaning loudly as he was slowly parted, in and then out, deliberate rhythm aching to build. Zeke’s hands ran down to the pale thighs and back to his waist, and he could feel Casey letting go, could move more smoothly, more quickly. His thrusts began to speed up, and he bent his head back, digging his heels into the mattress and pushing up into that hot fucking embrace, when the metallic slap of the shutter made him grin. Casey squeezed and rammed downward, and Zeke yelped, his chest and shoulders rising off the bed from the sudden sensation. _Click_. “Oh, you fucker,” he chuckled, “Can’t I even come in peace?”

“No way,” Casey said. “What kind of photographer would I be?” He pulled up and pushed down again, slow, tight, making Zeke hiss. Another click. A ragged moan. “Oh, god, that’s it. Yeah.” Zeke turned his face into the light, the orgasm bearing down on him. His brows clenched and his teeth grit. Casey’s camera clicked, watching him, wanting him, licking him with its lens, caressing him by proxy. Zeke barely managed to gasp, “How- do you- want it?”

Casey moved up and down in time with Zeke’s thrusts, biting his lower lip. He leaned down and licked the wet skin of Zeke's chest. “Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me,” he whispered, his voice ragged. He straightened up and raised the camera, then sank down, gripping hard, and Zeke made that sound Casey can never hear enough. One after another he took the shots as his lover came, sinking into his pleasure because he knew Casey wanted to see every single pulse, every snap of electricity, every aching, slamming heartbeat. _See me._

Casey whimpered as he felt the spread of heat inside his body. Pulling himself up and off his lover, he shivered, still hard, still wanting. He got a last few shots of Zeke pulling off the leather jacket, settling back on the pillows, running a hand over his own skin, his smile dark and private. _He’s gotten good at this,_ Casey thought. _I’ll have to find something to shake him up again._ He set his camera down and lay back to kiss his lover's waist, lips gently moving back and forth. Zeke opened his eyes lazily and pulled him up close.

“Hey,” he murmured, running a sleepy hand over Casey’s side. “You didn’t come.” He moved his hand lower but Casey took it, lifting the fingers to his mouth. He licked the fingertips lightly, sucking a little. Zeke hummed under his breath, and Casey looked at his camera, imagining the images shifting and swirling inside it, waiting for life. He brought the broad, warm hand down to his groin, pushing into its firm heat, and smiled. “I came,” he whispered. 

 

\----***----

 

Now he touches the leather with his fingertips, thinking of what Zeke had said before. “Was he tall like you?” he asked. The kisses at his neck slow.

“Who, my dad?” Zeke asks, nuzzling. Casey nods. “I think so. Five’s not a great age for judging heights.” He pauses, and Casey tries to imagine him as a little kid, looking up at the towering adults. Strange thought, stranger than he would have guessed. 

“I didn’t know he was my dad back then. Not til years later. Nobody knew but him and Mom.” His voice is subdued. “I remember he made me think of a big tree,” Zeke says. “So I told him that. He liked it, even started calling himself Big Tree.” His tone darkens, and Casey can feel his abdominal muscles tense up against his back. He leans back and kisses Zeke’s neck, listening. “Brian got suspicious and asked him about it. Their business was going badly and my dad was fed up with him, I guess. Mom told me he kinda snapped, and got up in Brian's face and told him his son had named him. That’s when the shit hit the fan. I never saw him again.” He lowers his forehead to Casey’s neck, who caresses the side of his face and then turns to bring their lips together. The kiss is slow and deep, and Casey’s embrace holds him steady, even though the past is still empty, and he still fears the emptiness to come.  
.


End file.
